


Love's Perfect Ache

by SuperNova53



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Chafing, Established Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, Ficlet, Finger Sucking, Fluff and Smut, M/M, POV Steve Rogers, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Strawberries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-11
Updated: 2018-08-11
Packaged: 2019-06-25 23:37:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15651267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuperNova53/pseuds/SuperNova53
Summary: Living in the Avenger's Compound gets lonely without Tony there. Luckily he always seems to come back just at the right moment - with strawberries... And champagne..





	Love's Perfect Ache

**Author's Note:**

> Just some domesticy-fluffy-stuff, having a bit of a practice writing 'Points of View' - I know I'm not quiet there yet, but this was fun to write. Enjoy! :)

The air sat heavy and humid all day, Steve spent the best part of it pulling at his uniform to get it away from his skin. Any extended amount of time outside and it sucked the moisture right out the atmosphere, “Breathable fabric my foot-” He mutters subtly adjusting his pants because he’s pretty sure he’s lost track of where he _ends_ and his briefs begin. “-I don’t _care_ if it’s bulletproof.”

The storm finally breaks at dusk, coloring the sky to an inky black. It’s not violent thrashes of thunder and endless sheets of rain; it’s gentle, mumbling off in the distance, sprinkling from the darkened sky in soft droplets that run in pearlescent beads down the enormous glass panes of the new Avengers facility.

It doesn’t even occur to Steve as he crosses the quinjet bay in the darkness that he hasn’t seen another soul for at least an hour. He tugs at his collar and shakes out his thigh, the worst of the humidity-induced chafing concentrated at the neck and the inseam of his pants, _right in the groin._ He’d have to speak to Tony about adjustments.

_Tony loves an excuse to take an inside leg measurement._

The thought’s enough to make Steve pause, a deep-seated ache swells in his chest and pushes the air out of his lungs threatening to overwhelm him, he hasn’t seen Tony in _weeks_. Hasn’t _touched_ him in weeks. They spoke often enough, brief phone calls between meetings when privacy was at a premium that neither could afford; and there had been texting, _a lot_ of texting where they could type all the things they couldn’t say, but it wasn’t the same.

Steve kept finding his bed too big, his hands too empty and the nights too cold and lonely, he misses all the times he has woken to Tony curled against his back, _more jetpack than big spoon._ But he sucks it up, _because he has too_ because he was an _Avenger_ and he wasn’t granted the same freedom to chase and pine like an adolescent school girl.

_Give the speech Steve – be the symbol of fortitude everybody thinks you are, then when everybody’s gone, tell yourself you’re strong – because you’ve gone one more day without him._

The trudge to his room is miserable, he sees Tony everywhere _because he designed the damn place._ He’s in the frameless canvases of rayonistic artwork he’d commissioned. _Steve thought they were too busy, Tony liked it because it broke up the walls._ He’s in the smart lighting, the glass balcony over the quinjet bay, the automatic doors and the ostentatious coffee machine.

_He’s everywhere._

When he _finally_ gets there his hand pauses hovering just shy of opening it because the door’s already ajar, a soft almost golden light flickers from within. He pushes it wide to white pillar candles on every surface bathing the room in a diffused quivering glow, wax running down their machine perfect posts in abstract runnels, shaping them into something new, something that was perfectly artistic and irreplicable.

 _“Tony,”_ Steve says breathless as his pulse quickens at seeing him reclining in a tub chair wearing jeans and a shirt unbuttoned to midway down his chest. The door clicks shut, and his hands start to tremble, he can’t tear his eyes away. He doesn’t _want_ to tear his eyes away because he might disappear, it’s possible he’s been driven mad by the separation and he’s resorted to hallucinating. He blinks and Tony’s still there, smiling and relaxed with his skin that looks gilded in the arcs of light and the soft brown of his eyes almost black.

He gets up and Steve rushes to meet him, stopping short and not daring to touch in case he might break the spell.

“I’ve had a… _strange day-_ ” Tony says closing the gap between them and looping his arms around Steve’s waist to pull their hips together, “-see _here’s the thing:_ I kept trying to work,” he cocks his head to the side, looking at him with half-lidded eyes, “ _but,_ I kept thinking about you.” Stretching up, he ghosts his mouth over Steve’s and he quivers at the touch, the soft velvet brush and rough catch from his beard.

Tony lingers, his breath warm and sweet and _so close._ He kisses him again and Steve feels his lips swell and tingle, his whole-body melts and the tension drops from his shoulders when Tony dips his tongue between the seam.

Steve wraps him up in his arms, cupping his hand to the back of his head, tilting it to the angle he wants, feeling the rasps of his beard on his jaw when he licks into his mouth; it builds from slow and steady, the tentative kisses when Steve still isn’t convinced Tony’s not going to vanish from his grip to something frantic and desperate, the _‘I’ve got you and I’m not going to let you go’_ , he arches Tony backwards, clinging to him because he can’t get enough.

Steve rests their foreheads together when they finally break for air, _“God, I’ve missed you,”_ his hand still firmly clasped to the back of his head, the other resting in the small of his back so they’re touching as much as possible. His eyes flutter closed as he inhales the comforting scent of Tony. All the things he’s missed mingled together in the scant breadth of traded air between them. He smells of clean clothes, freshly washed skin that’s been dabbed with cologne and it throws him back to the first time he stood naked and blushing in front of him, back when Tony had gawped in disbelief and dare not be anything but gently in case Steve bolted. His whole-body floods with warmth at the memory, it makes his knees shake and threaten to give out and he goes back in for a kiss only to have Tony nose away with a coy smile on his lips.

“All in good time,” He says giving Steve a sympathetic pat on his cheek and pushing at his shoulders lightly, wiggling out of his grip until he reluctantly lets go.

_“What…?”_ Steve says _not_ catching his breath, glancing down at his pants which were getting noticeably tighter and more uncomfortable by the second. His fingers twitching at finding themselves empty where Tony had been moments ago.

“We’ll get to _that,”_ Tony smirks raising an eyebrow and stepping close to press the heal of his hand to where Steve’s cock strains against Kevlar. He thrusts into his palm on instinct, groaning only for the sound to be swallowed up by another kiss. “I’ve missed you.” Tony murmurs, his voice soft like the candlelight that highlights his features, the gentle slope of his nose, the definition in his cheekbones and the glossy dark pitch of his hair. Steve lets his head drop to his shoulder, leans into him and sighs when arms wrap his ribs.

Deft hands start to work the hidden zippers on the suit and Steve obligingly lifts and twists and lets it be peeled it off and chucked on his floor.

Tony clicks his tongue when he spots the chafing on Steve’s neck and traces it with a finger then goes up on his tiptoes and follows the same line with his lips. Steve hums in contentment, the soft cool cotton of Tony’s shirt that he only just feels against his skin, the warmth from the candle flames, the careful hands that push and pull him out of his uniform lifts the weight of responsibility from his shoulders, fools him into thinking that maybe, just for a moment he can shut the world out and be Steve, _just Steve,_ hiding in his room with Tony, _just Tony._

“You spend-” Tony says his hands straying to the zipper of his pants, “-so much time looking after everybody else,” methodically working it loose, “I figured you needed a night off.” He tugs and has them at his ankles caught on his boots Steve hadn’t had a chance to take off. Tony drops his gaze down and grins from ear to ear at Steve’s briefs that jut out from his body, the fabric stretched obscenely tight, and says laughing, “Or maybe a night _on._ ” Steve stands there unapologetically, feeling his chest swell and skin prickly everywhere Tony’s hands were on him, “Come on,” Tony gestures for him to follow as he disappears into the ensuite.

He doesn’t waste any time, he rips his boots off, half hopping half running as he yanks his pants the rest of the way down and kicks them away.

He’s lost for words when he goes in, there are _more_ candles, so many that Steve begins to wonder if Tony might have robbed a church on his way here. The light they emit is ambient and low, flames flickering off every shining surface, Steve feels like he could star gaze in his own bathroom; the tub’s full of water and bubbles and Tony’s sat at on the edge leaning on an upturned palm with that mischievous smile on his face watching Steve’s reactions. “What is all this?” He asks unable to hide fondness in his voice.

 _“I told you,_ you needed a night off.” Tony gets up and hands Steve a flute of champagne then busies himself with sliding Steve out of his briefs.

“It’s not going to get me drunk,” He smiles, letting his eyes slide closed at Tony’s fingertips running down his thighs then back up the inside trailing along the red skin in the crease of his groin where his pants had been chafing. Steve jolts at the touch, almost sloshing champagne onto the bathroom floor, but he lets Tony have his way.

“Maybe not-” Tony stands, eyes tracing the ridges and planes of Steve’s body, “-but at a hundred bucks a bottle, it’s still gonna taste good,” his tone’s so light-hearted and easy that it makes Steve's chest hurt like it might burst, his cheeks already aching from the size of his smile. Tony gestures for him to get in the tub, like Steve would need any encouragement.

The water’s perfect, soft like it’s had salt added and warm against his skin, he sighs finding himself shutting his eyes again and sinking beneath the surface with his weight cradled, his muscles letting go of tension he didn’t even realize he was holding onto.

_Tony was magical, he had to be._

He was more than Steve thought he deserved, they’d been in each other company a little under twenty minutes and he was already fixing all things Steve didn’t even know were ailing him.

 _But Tony always knows,_ even when he’s miles away he knows when Steve at his breaking point when he needs a night like this just the two of them, _no work, no Avengers._

He comes back up when a hand brushes his knee, Tony’s sat back on his perch, one sleeve rolled up to his elbow, trailing his fingers in the water and smiling.

Steve asks, half joking half wanting an excuse to get his soapy hands all over him, “You not coming in?” He rests his chin on the edge and looks up, they’ll never both fit, the tubs big but it’s not _that_ big.

Tony lifts his hand out and tangles it into Steve’s hair, gently kneading his scalp with his fingertips. “I’m comfy here,” he says blinking slowly and working his magic fingers in little circles against Steve skull.

 _“That feels nice,”_ he says, the heat from the bath making him hazy, watching Tony through eyes he’s barely keeping open, leaning into his hand like a cat that’s being scratched behind the ear; he hadn’t even realized he had a headache until Tony’s ministrations stopped it buzzing in his temples.

A gently pull at his hair has him perking up, “No falling asleep, come on your champagne is getting warm,”

They chat _(mostly Tony chats)_ , and sip whilst Steve floats around in the tub, it’s easy, _borderline domestic._ The champagne bubbles in his nose, it tastes wonderful and he even feels a little giddy, he reasons it _probably_ has more to do with Tony laughing and looking so relaxed whilst telling him how Happy had managed to stain the couch with nacho cheese and tried to blame it on the dog before he remember Tony didn’t have one.

The conversation drifts into a comfortable silence, Steve moves to get out, _albeit reluctantly,_ and Tony jumps up, “Have you eaten yet?” He says quickly making a ‘stay’ gesture to Steve then disappearing.

He reappears with a plate stacked full of strawberries.

And that’s it, _he’s thrown,_ “What’s _this?”_ Waking up a little from the dreamy half-consciousness he had fallen into from the low light and the warmth and the fact he’d been on his feet most of the day. He can smell the strawberries already, carrying on the steam from the water, sweet and ripe, he leans his elbows on the edge of the bath and Tony feeds him the juiciest one from the top.

They taste as good as they look, nectarous and lush to the point that his jaw and throat ache for the flavor again. He must have been pulling a face or making a noise because Tony laughs and feeds him another. Touching it to Steve’s bottom lip before he moves it within his reach.

“Did you know-” Tony starts, picking a choice fruit for himself, never once taking his eyes off him, “-that strawberries are quite a _potent_ aphrodisiac.” He smiles and sparkles when he bites into it, letting the juice drip down his fingers and stain his lips pink.

“You don’t say,” Steve mumbles following the rivulet of red that forks over Tony’s knuckles and leaning into him.

Tony moves closer offering him the half-bitten fruit, lifting his eyebrow up like he’s daring him to take it.

Steve knows how to get a rise from him, he closes his eyes, he opens his mouth and when Tony touches the wet dripping fruit to his tongue he sucks his fingers in with it.

He hears the sharp intake of breath and the ever-so-slight groan when Tony _very_ slowly and _very_ deliberately runs his fingers over his palette as he drags them out of his mouth, catching his nails on Steve’s plush bottom lip.

Steve looks up at him, the picture of innocence finishing what’s in his mouth, Tony sits there frozen, his hand inches from Steve’s face, “Something wrong, Tony?”

It brings him back online and he glances from his fingers to Steve, and even in the low light, Steve sees his skin flash a brilliant red, _“Do it again,”_ his voice dropping low and his fingertips stretching out and tracing the shape of his lips before pulling down on the bottom one, he tucks his thumb under Steve chin and tilts his head up, and Steve opens his mouth. He lets him in, he hollows his cheeks and sucks until Tony’s fingers scrape at the back of his throat. He flattens his tongue and laps against them, the same way he would if it was Tony’s cock instead.

Tony’s staring when he opens his eyes his pupils blown wide and fixed at the point where Steve’s lips close around his index and middle finger. “I think you can get out now.”

He surges up out of the tub knocking a few of the candles in the process, they splash and hiss as the wicks hit the water. Tony’s right there to meet him, his hands quivering to touch his wet naked flesh.

“Kiss me,” he says looking wild as Steve climbs out steadying himself against Tony’s solidity and leaving big wet handprints on the sleeves of his white shirt, turning it see through in the process.

He pulls Tony against him by his open collar, fumbling blindly with the fragile buttons his attention not in his hands because Tony could kiss filthy, running the tip of his tongue along Steve’s top lip before pushing it passed his teeth tasting sticky and sweet; every calculated lap in his mouth and low vibrating groan pulsing and curling in his stomach, making his cock bounce and throb in anticipation against the rough denim of Tony’s jeans.

His shirt ends up on the bathroom floor and Steve pushes him back to the bedroom where the candles are burning low, never once breaking the kiss, he works the stiff fabric of his pants loose letting them pool at Tony’s ankles immediately going back to strip him of his shorts.

His hand slips against sleek fabric, _“Silk?”_ Steve breaths between kisses more an observation than a question.

 _“You don’t like them?”_ Tony says breaking away, not giving Steve the time to respond before he’s back because he’s adamant _(Steve’s sure)_ that tonight his tongue is going to spend more time in Steve’s mouth than his own.

 _“Like them… Off,”_ He mumbles and it’s half swallowed up. Steve steers Tony back to the bed until his knees hit the edge. He flops backward in a whirl of bedsheets smiling up through his lips red and kiss-bitten.

Tony hooks his thumbs under the waistband of his shorts, “like them off huh?” he says every bit the tease. He makes a show of sliding them down; groaning when the cool fabric skims over his cock lifting his hips and arching his back, then sitting up to throw them squarely at Steve’s chest.

They end up on the floor with everything else.

Steve kisses his way up.

The delicate skin of Tony’s ankles, his tapered calves and lean thighs. The warm indent at his hip bones, the flat of his stomach and the soft downy hairs below his navel.

His fingertips trace the lines of his ribs when he kisses the scars on his chest where the arc reactor once sat. He sucks at the hollow of his collarbone and it tastes better than the strawberries and champagne.

He knows all the places that make Tony twitch. He could find them blindfolded, the smooth patch behind his knee that makes him sigh, the inside of his thigh where he likes to feel stubble, on his neck where his tendons cord and the slightest pressure of lips makes him give out in Steve’s arms.

The candles are burning so low now, the ones closest to them, the few that _haven’t_ turned to puddles of wax light the bed and nothing else and Steve feels like they’re the only two people in the world…

_Tony must have planned it that way, he never leaves anything up to chance._

He comes up level with Tony, looking down at him spread out on his back and pinned with Steve's knees bracketing his hips. His hand comes up to cup the back of Steve’s neck. “I love you,” he says tracing little circles at his hairline, his eyes flitting over the features of Steve’s face.

“I love you too,” He surges forward, shifting the weight from his knees, kissing him _hard_ like they both needed it to live. He thrusts his hips and Tony’s right there to return the favor, there’s no friction, just the smooth glance of skin on skin that makes Tony arch and groan.

His stomach’s sticky when he reluctantly pulls away, from Tony, or himself, _or both._ Everything from the waist down is throbbing and he braves the dark floor to find the bottle of lube Tony had jokingly chucked into his bedside drawers the last time he was here.

 _“Just in case I come visit,”_ he had smiled dipping his sunglasses down his nose to wink at Steve.

He was grateful for it now, spreading Tony’s legs further apart, feeling his body open willingly to his fingers and hearing him mutter breathless pleas for him not to stop.

Steve’s making a mess of his bedsheets, _not that he cares,_ his cock’s dripping like a faucet and Tony’s writhing under his touch. He drags his finger almost all the way out just to plunge them back in hearing the air hiss passed Tony’s teeth and watch his hands fist into the covers.

He bites his lip until he can’t anymore, Tony’s coming undone in front of him and Steve’s whole body aches with need, the pressure already too much as it twists in his stomach.

He pulls Tony up by his wrist, _“please, Steve…”_ He says and doesn’t finish, his whole body shaking in Steve’s arms when he seats him in his lap. His skin’s clammy to the touch and he’s so pliant, _so desperate,_ he goes with whichever way Steve pushes or pulls him.

Steve doesn’t mean to be rough, but restraint gets overwritten by lust and he grips onto Tony’s hips a little _too_ tight, he spreads his fingers out across each globe of his ass pushing his cock up against the tight ring of muscle until he feels the resistance give.

He groans, deep from his chest, screwing his eyes shut when _every_ muscle in Tony’s body seems to tense around him at once and the splayed hands that were resting on his chest suddenly turn to claws and catch like barbs on his skin. Tony sounds like he’s trying to speak, mumbling inarticulate sounds and arching his back as Steve pushes in deeper, sliding in right to the base.

Tony pants above him, his face twisted up into ecstasy, little beads of sweat trickling down his sternum and glistening in the candlelight. And he’s so tight, _and he’s missed him so much._ He feels himself losing control, the handle he had on whatever was telling him to savor every moment and take it slow slips and he bucks his hips up making Tony cry out.

He does it again and Tony’s right there to meet him pushing his weight down taking Steve deeper.

 _“I’ve really missed you…”_ Tony gasps, Steve trusts upwards in lieu of a response and watches the air get knocked from his lungs and his cock that’s trapped between them pulse and glisten at the tip.

 _“Kiss me,”_ Steve says and Tony does, filthier than before, _almost sloppy,_ and exactly what Steve wants. Every moan gets swallowed and every curse word bitten off. He pushes harder, faster deeper knowing Tony’s body so well and the angle he needs to hit that precious bundle of nerves deep inside.

He starts to lose his rhythm, kisses are forgotten and he drags Tony in against his chest, clawing at his back trying and failing to stop himself coming. He buries his face into the juncture of Tony’s neck, and muffles the noise that accompanies the rush of heat through his entire body and the sudden, urgent release of pressure that makes his ears ring and his vision swim, he chases the feeling and thrusts until he’s got nothing left to give.

He goes still, panting and willing his heart to slow down.

Tony feels heavy in his lap and he realizes he shaking, his whole body quivering in his grip and they’re _stuck_ together. _“Holy shit, Steve,”_ his voice sounds strained but laced with amusement and he pushes back to release himself from Steve’s arms.

Tony looks sated, a lopsided grin on his face and a glow on his cheeks. He glances down and Steve follows his line of sight suddenly realizing what was sticking them together. Tony’s painted both of them from chest to stomach in stripes of white. He shrugs cheekily, “It’s been a while.” It’s the last thing Steve sees before the remaining candles flicker and die.

“Oh,” Steve says as they’re plunged into darkness. They both sit not moving but giggling in the dark until they hear a throng of voices approaching. The automatic light clicks on from the corridor and beams underneath the door.

Somebody says, “Should we check on Steve?” Tony’s eyes flare with panic as their teammates’ shadows pause outside. Steve stomach drops, he’s still holding Tony in his lap covered in cum and filth and he doesn’t remember locking the door.

_Fuck, fuck, fuck._

“No-trust me, _he’s fine.”_ Natasha’s stern voice intones over the commotion.

Steve could kiss her, Tony goes limp in his arms almost like the panic has drained the last of his energy. _“Oh my God.”_ He laughs after they’ve gone, taking advantage of the temporary light source to crawl off of Steve’s lap and turn on a lamp.

Steve blinks up at him. “Where have they all been?” He asks, already guessing Tony had something to do with it. 

Tony rolls his hand, in an _‘ahh, you know’_ gesture, “I lent them Happy for the night, _and_ a limo.” He says disappearing into the bathroom, he comes back out with the forgotten strawberries and a towel that he tosses in Steve’s direction. “He owed me for ruining my couch.” He sits back down next to Steve and starts eating.

Steve leans to grab a fruit only to have Tony jerk the plate away. “What makes you think you’re getting any? _I’m starving.”_ He says grinning and punctuating his statement by tucking into another.

“Because you love me?” Steve asks watching Tony make a show of considering it.

He moves the plate back into Steve’s reach, leaning in to kiss him soft and sweet, “well, you’ve got me there… I really do.”

**Author's Note:**

> As always: thank you for reading! Comments and feedback always welcome! :)


End file.
